Knights of the Old Republic: The rise of Nihilus
by l0rdn1hilus
Summary: I am Darth Nihilus, Lord of Hunger, Destroyer of worlds, Former Jedi, and, at the end of all things, redeemed.
1. The Jedi Code

Knights of the Old Republic 2

The Sith Lords

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, or Darth Nihilus, Obsidian and lucasarts do..

The Chronicles of Darth Nihilus

Chapter 1: The Code of the Jedi

_There is no death, there is the force._

Many years ago I believed in that very statement, that life can carry on in the force, that life did not end with the expiration of the corporeal body.

I was such a fool.

You may wonder who I am, and why I say this. I tell you now, I am Darth Nihilus, Lord of Hunger, Dark Lord of the Sith, ravager of worlds, and lord of an empire. I burned worlds, annihilated whole species, fed of the living force itself, as if it were nothing more than mere sustenance to me, for that is what I am. I am Darth Nihilus, Lord of Hunger, I would see all turned to ash, burned before the dark, destructive fire that is the Void in my soul. I am Darth Nihilus, this is my story.

"_Many a legacy of the Sith began with the discovery of a Ancient holocron and a Greedy, Overly-curious Jedi"_

Wise words, spoken not too long ago by my very own master, Darth Traya, Dark Lady of the Sith. In my case, far too true, that is why I feared her, she was a master of manipulation, of setting events in motion before their rightful time. Listen, and heed those words, they will have great bearing later.

Before the Jedi Civil War, before the rise of Malak, before the fall of Revan, before the shadow war I waged on the Jedi with my fellow Sith, before that, there was a golden age, an idyllic setting, no strife, little corruption. The republic, ruled by the august body of the galactic senate, had not seen bloodshed since the Sith wars of Naga Sadow and his fellow Sith Lords decades before. The Jedi were the enforcers of justice, upholders of the values of freedom, righteousness and peace.

Lies, damned lies.

I was a child, born to a mother and father like all beings and, of course, given a name: Elax Verq, which, in the language of the herds of Ithor, meant "fearless warrior". I loved my mother, in the years I spent with her, she cared for me, taught me the value of love and care. And there was my father, a brutal violent man, a man, hardened by conflict, of which I did not know of, or, frankly, even cared for. One day, he came back, obviously angered by some conflict, and hurt me. I did not know it at the time, but fear, and hate, can be used, sometimes as weapons. I shocked him into submission with deadly force lightning, I made him hurt back, I punished him for all the pain he made me feel, and in the end, that pain proved to be my undoing. I killed my own father, and yet, I felt no regret, no remorse. I did not know it at the time, but I had taken my first step into a larger, greater reality.

Since then, my mother and I lived a peaceful life, keeping my "dark" act as a secret. Until approximately 18 years before the Mandalorian wars, when I was 4 years old. I was visited by a cloaked man, who told my mother I was "special", part of the "Jedi", at this time, I did not know who, or what the Jedi were, I was but a mere youngling of the age of four, and when that man came to see me, and I looked into his eyes, I saw things that haunt me to this day, for in that man's eyes, I saw the blood of countless millions, voices, in the force, screaming for mercy, only to be cruelly and mercilessly struck down, yes, that very Jedi who came to see me for my talent with the force was none other than the great Dark Lord, Darth Revan himself. He told me that I was part of a greater destiny that awaited me, that I was destined to safeguard the galaxy from the darkness and evil that might come.

Ironic that I was speaking to that very darkness and evil that day, as if he were any other man.

And so, after my initial opposition to Revan's proposal, I relented, even though I hated to leave the comfort of my mother for a whole new world, my mother said that I must, that opportunities like this come along very rarely, that I always had a greater destiny as a warrior…of the light. She said she was able to look after herself, having secured a promotion at Czerka as Regional Director of Mannan, and would come visit me every time she could. And so, I boarded Revan's starfighter and left my homeworld for Coruscant, where I would take up the mantle of Jedi initiate and begin my first steps as a warrior of the light, defender of peace, and guardian of justice.

Now, you may wonder the name of my homeworld, the planet on which I spent many days of my youth. I tell you now, its name was….Telos. Ahhh, Telos, the planet of unparalled beauty and grandeur, where life blooms and flourishes, where the sky rains snow, and sleet, rain and sun. Where animals roam free, docile and happy, unscarred by thoughts of death, pain, impending doom. No, Telos was a beautiful world, the world where I spent my happiest days, my finest hours, where I saw in all its splendour, the beauty of life and creation, paralleled only in that time by the great jungles of Dxun and the boundless seas of Mannan, where life flourished, free and happy, as I once had been.


	2. A legacy begins

Knights of the Old Republic 2

The Sith Lords

Please read and Review chapter 2, I'd like to see how this goes, even if I get 2 reviews. 

Chapter 2: A Legacy begins.

"_The Jedi will not kill helpless prisoners"_

Ahh..yes, spoken like a true Jedi, advocators of peace and pacifism.

Weak fools.

Yes, I remember that, when I was a Jedi initiate, I was taught the Jedi pillars of strength, by none other than Jedi Master Vandar Tokare himself. The lesson was that Jedi do not kill, that if a Jedi must kill, it is when it is completely necessary, when all other options are exhausted.

Pathetic.

They do not know that to kill, to extinguish a flame in the force, to relish in the kill, to draw power from death and destruction. That is where true power lies. That is a pillar of Sith teachings, where the path to the Dark Side begins, where the path to true power over all others lies.

Ahh…but I digress…let me return to my story.

And so, after a short hyperspace transit, I came to the Jedi praxeum on Coruscant, Revan's fighter docked in the left wing of the temple, where, after a short walk through the room of a thousand fountains, I would be meeting the Jedi Council that convened on Coruscant to decide if I was to be a Jedi, or, if Revan was mistaken in taking me to them. Well, regardless, at the time, I was far too mesmerized by the sights I saw, the room of a thousand fountains, the Jedi Archives in a glass window, adjacent to the room, sang of the knowledge of a thousand worlds, while the room of a thousand fountains sang a symphony of never-ending devotion to the infinite, mysterious force.

How sad, that, many years later, those rooms, and the knowledge and symbolism they personified, would fall to a age of darkness and strife, ringing as hollow as the Jedi principles they taught and embodied.

And soon after, the Jedi Council found me to be force-sensitive, in particular, skilled in the ways of manipulation of the force. And so, I was assigned to be a Jedi initiate, but, educated in the ways of the Jedi Consular, and so, my training began.

And so, for 14 years, I was taught and educated in the ways of the lightsaber and the ways of the force. I leant the lightsaber styles, Shii-cho, Makashi and Soresu. However, I asked my instructors to allow me to specialize in 1 pure, distinct form. After much deliberation, they agreed, I was allowed to pursue the controlled and defensive Shien form, on the basis that consulars should focus on a defensive aspect of the lightsaber, and not a offensive one, like the chaotic power offered by Juyo, or the Unrivalled offensive might afforded by the legendary Ataru style. I could tell this displeased my instructors, they thought I should learn more offensive styles, and labeled me as a "odd" child, when the Jedi themselves preach against discrimination. Did I not see the fundamental weakness of the order at the time? No, I was but a impressionable child, and the Jedi used this to their advantage.

Ignorant, manipulative fools.

Regardless, I excelled in my use of the force, excelling in enhancing the potency of my force powers. I was also competent in enhancing my affinity to the force, as a result, enabling me to channel greater amounts of raw force energy. I excelled at abilities like push and stasis. However, at the time, what seemed strange to my masters was my exceptional skill at the technique "Drain force", a deadly technique that caused Jedi to skirt the line between the dark and light sides when used. In fact, my masters were so worried about my skill with this technique that I was barred from learning it; they called it "too risky" for one as undisciplined and inexperienced as myself.

Damned Jedi, I was a master of the technique, possibly even _the_ master of that technique, taking it to heights that no-one had ever dreamed of, I even managed to strip animals of some of their connection to the force absorbing minimal amounts of their force energies, causing them to go insane with pain and rage. And why did they do this? I tell you, OUT OF FEAR, THAT'S WHY! They were afraid of me, afraid of the power I could wield, if I ever disagreed with them, against them.

Of course at the time, I did not realize it, I merely accepted their "greater" wisdom and decisions as such. And, I dutifully and willingly followed their orders and decisions as I struggled through my initiation as a Jedi.

At the end of my initiation, a ceremony was held in the room of a thousand fountains to commemorate the day we finally were to become padawans. It was to be a ceremony that sang to the living force, the melody that its disciples, who had diligently followed the path of the many great servants of the light that had come before, were ready to follow the living force with more devotion and fervour, living as servants of the light, to forever keep the honour and flame of the Jedi bright and forever ablaze. That day, we were arrayed before 3 council members: Vandare Tokare, Ashka Sath, and Vrook Lamar, ready to receive our future masters.

As we stood in that dark room, Master Vrook stepped forth, and gave a speech. " Jedi initiates, today, you take your first steps into a world far larger than the one you have known for the past 14 years. Today, you will individually step forth and receive your master, who has each willingly accepted you as a padawan. You are the flame of the future of the Jedi Order, a blaze that will expel the darkness from wherever it may hide, remember this lesson padawans, and meditate on these words: "The dark is a formless, ever-changing entity, unfixed and forever present, for as long as there is greed, hunger, betrayal, insidiousness, pain, hate and the desire to manipulate others, the dark will NEVER die. We may strike it down, but it will always raise its dark visage to haunt us again. We are the last rampart against the forces of darkness, the lone spectre holding back the hate, fury and hunger that threatens to end all life. We must never falter! We must hold our flame high for all eternity, to preserve civilization, to preserve the values we stand for, to hold back that which threatens to end us all. Remember, that as all-encompassing and eternal as the dark is, it can never prevail against the light."

Wise words, more vaunted Jedi Wisdom. Vrook Lamar was a fool, he believed that the Jedi were sufficient to hold back the tide of darkness that was the Sith, and where did that lead him? The answer is: exile. Yes, exile. As the Jedi were destroyed, exterminated once and for all, he went into self-exile, throwing himself down in a time of darkness to preserve himself. For even the last rampart has to fall sooner or later, an eternity is not such a long time to wait. After all, I would gladly wait even longer to see the last rampart fall, burned before righteous fire and damnation.

As we stood in that dark room, each of our names was called. I cared not for my fellow initiates, and waited only for my name to echo in that dark room, my tension multiplying each sound, echo and resonance by a million. And finally, as I was called to the centre of the room, my master stepped forth to greet me. And, to my elation, I was accepted by council member Master Vandar Tokare himself. As with tradition, every Master imparts Jedi "wisdom" to his padawan at escalation. Master Tokare said few words, but I could understand them clearly, they were: "Padawan, you are a flame in the force, destined for a future guided by the light, never falter, and you will be great." As master Tokare robed me in Jedi padawan robes, I could not help but stammer a word of thanks to my future master, at the time I was so overcome…

As Master Aksha stepped forth, she said, "Raise your lightsabers, master and padawan, and cross them and recite our code, sing to the force of our devotion and spirit, sing to the force of the banner of the Jedi, of the banner we shall forever carry as guardians of peace and freedom throughout the galaxy, wherever the force may take us." As I raised my viridian lightsaber, and crossed it with master Tokare's blue one, I recited the ancient words of Jedi Odan-Urr, echoing the code of all Jedi before me in Odan-Urr's time.

"_There is no emotion; there is peace._

_There is no ignorance; there is knowledge_

_There is no passion; there is serenity._

_There is no chaos; there is harmony_

_There is no death; there is the force."_

As the ceremony ended, the deactivation of lightsabers could be heard in the room of a thousand functions, all simultaneous, but, after that, there was nothing in the room at all.

The vaunted Jedi Code, a code built on beliefs and ideals, weak beliefs and spineless ideals. They do not know where true knowledge and insight may lie, only by embracing the true ideals, the ideals of hate and hunger, of pain and betrayal, can one's eyes be opened to a greater reality.


	3. And let the ramparts fall

Knights of the Old Republic 2

The Sith Lords

Chapter 3: And let the Ramparts fall…

"_Across the Galaxy, through seas of dark stars, rivers of whispering black shadow from the Republic's ancient past……evil history we had thought forgotten…"_

Wise words indeed, spoken by one who had seen the dark truth that so many had chosen to leave buried. Buried under the tides of forgotten history, atrophied starfleets, and ancient cruxes of the dark side, the ancient sith empire is ancient, forgotten, but still intact, and very much alive. From the tombs of Korriban to the Trayus academy on Malachor V, the relics of a long-forgotten age remain, sheltered by lies and death.

And it is from here that I took my first steps into those rivers of black, forgotten shadow.

Shortly after my escalation, in approximately twenty standard days, a distress call was sent to the Jedi temple from the republic capital ship "Desolator". The ship, on routine patrol over the planet Ziost, had suffered engine atrophy to its hyperdrive. Rendering it unsuitable for hyperspace transit until the hyperdrive core was replaced.

Apparently, Ziost was a focal point of dark side energy, being the birthplace of the ancient sith empire of legend. And it was, on that world, that the dark side energies had corrupted the minds of the inhabitants of the ancient forests of Ziost. Among the most fearful of these creatures was the "_Ahj'Kar_" spider of infamous Ziostian legend, a result of ancient and heretical sith alchemy. Spread by their Massassi masters to the four corners of the galaxy, the spiders were to pave the way for Naga Sadow's Sith Armies on four select worlds: Kashyykk, Tatooine, Dantooine, and, Yavin IV, they were the pinnacle of savagery and the ultimate hunters. Only one Jedi had ever defeated such a creature, the legendary Jedi guardian and weaponmaster; Master Kavar. He had personally described the encounter with his creature in his log entry to be as "swift as the Vaapad of Sarapin", "relentless as the Terentatek of dark side legend" and as "deadly as cyanogen gas".

At the time, I was eager and willing to take up this mission. I did not understand Master Vandar's reluctance to travel to Ziost, the world was long dead, purged of the influence of the dark side. However, he soon relented, and we set off for the ancient world of Sith Legend. Not knowing what awaited us, and confident in our faith of the light, we went, as Jedi, enforcers of peace, with hearts and spirits pure and true to the light.

Only to be consumed by the insidious fury of the dark.

Ziost was a hyperspace transit of 1 standard hour away from Coruscant, so, in that time, I spoke with Master Vandar about his reluctance to travel to Ziost. I asked the simple question: "Master, why did you object to our mission? Are the Jedi not the Guardians of lives of the innocent? I was indeed raised to think as such…." Master Vandar then looked at me with an expression of incredulity, like I had stated an obvious truth, and yet, was asking about it like an ignorant child. He said to me: "Padawan, do you not remember what Master Vrook told you at escalation day? He told you that the dark can NEVER die! I am reluctant to travel to Ziost as it was an ancient nexus of dark side energy to the ancient sith. The dark side is VERY strong there, young padawan. Remember, as dead as we believe the sith to be, the whispers of their empire remain! Padawan, what do you see at night on Coruscant?" Well, to me at the time, the answer was clear cut: "Stars, Master Vandar, and just….stars…..framed against the dark of night." And he responded: "Therein padawan, lies a lesson. Against the black of night, stars shine, luminous bodies, embodiments of light, forever holding off the onslaught of the night. But, my young padawan, ask yourself this: if there is no dark, what can the light hold off? If there is no light, Dark cannot exist. Light and dark exist as two fundamental sides of our galaxy, nay, our universe. We, as Jedi, must always stay true to the light, to maintain the balance of peace and stability against the evils of conflict and corruption. The force has chosen the Jedi as guardians of the light, to uphold its ideals against the code of the darkness. Never should we stray, never should we falter and fall. For if we do, we tip the balance all that little bit, and, come to ruin, the galaxy shall. That, padawan, is why I am afraid of Ziost. The dark is strong there, whispers of evils long forgotten hope to ensnare spirits of the light for their own machinations."

Finally, after a long while, master Vandar spoke again, and this time, it was a voice of compassion: "Padawan, the Jedi have been the guardians of freedom for many an age, always giving all we had and ever will have and be, to civilization, peace, freedom, and for the greater good of the light. Padawan, you will be a great Jedi, many things, both light and dark, and great and small await you, but you shall face each challenge, and prevail, for you, young padawan, are a blade of light, forever clashing with the shield of the dark, never to falter, never to break. Plunge the blade that is the light into the substance of the dark! Padawan, you will do great things, you may stumble and fall, but you will never stay down, NEVER WILL YOU FAIL! Stand tall, stay strong, and stay true to the light. Never falter, fight the dark, and never surrender. Forge your blade in the fire of the light, and never let go. Do this, and you will be great."

No truer a statement has ever been spoken. The dark can never die, truly it is everlasting, for those deluded Jedi fools, committing themselves to the light, serve only to strengthen and further our grand schemes. For the Jedi, through self-weakening teachings, only serve to further our purpose. The path of the light, the path of the altruistic, the deluded and blinded, is fundamentally flawed, the values of hunger have shown me that there is no altruism, only purpose, I am driven by hunger, it is my purpose, I am its lord, and yet I am driven by it, I use it to my own purposes even thought it is the only thing that I perceive. The void of hunger is endless, undying, everlasting, just like the principles from which it stemmed, the principles of the dark side. I consume life, and the force, to satiate my hunger. Driven by purpose, to consume life into the endless void that is my power, destroying world, annihilating species, destroying the force ITSELF! And that is why I came to have discovered true power, for through passion, through strength, and from there on, hunger, pain, betrayal, manipulation, hate, insidiousness, and anger, can true power be found. For there is power in purpose, there is strength in manipulation to one's own ends, and that is why the Jedi are weak, and the Sith, strong.


	4. Whispers of an empire

Knights of the Old Republic 2

The Sith Lords.

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Chapter 4: Whispers of an Empire.

"_There are dark places in the galaxy, where few tread. Ancient centers of learning, of knowledge." _

Across the borders of the galaxy, in places untouched by the hand of the Jedi, there exist places of knowledge, of power. Take for example, the Trayus academy, the temple of the Kaiburr crystal of legend, the tombs of the lost sith, the Mindharp of Sharu, and the legendary, now destroyed, Star Forge. These places were nexi of the dark side, where energies of the dark side gathered and coalesced, making its presence felt. These ancient dark side nexi can corrupt the purest of the spirits of light, and enslave their souls to the dark.

Ziost was one such place, but, it is far more than what meets the eye. Indeed, the dark side is strong there, but it is far more than a centre of learning, a stronghold of secrets. No, Ziost was the former capital of Naga Sadow's sith empire, and, reportedly, the very birthplace of the sith themselves. Many secrets lie buried on Ziost, for knowledge is not a corporeal aspect, it will always linger, as long as there are ways for it to be spread. Ancient techniques, such as the preservation of the corporeal self beyond the point of physical death, alchemial mutation, and the key to the destruction of entire planets! For that is the power of sith knowledge, the power that transcends all others. However, never can it be learnt through devotion to the light, for, through the acceptance of the reality of the dark, through devotion to the ideals of fear, pain, anger and hunger, can one attain true power, and only then, can one learn the deepest mysteries of the force.

As Master Vandar and I touched down on Ziost, we tracked the photon emissions of the _Devastator's_ hyperdrive arrays. As soon as we pinpointed the co-ordinates, we tracked the republic ship to a clearing 200 metres directly southwest of our landing site. There was a catch though, to get to the ship in the quickest possible manner, we had to cross through Chrysalide hunting ground; Chrysalides are sith beasts, possessing a Zakkeg's strength, a durastell hide, and a corrupt mind. Enforcers of the will of the greatest sith lords, rumor had it Naga Sadow and Ludo Kressh created hundreds as their personal guard.

Sadly, I had no choice, Master Vandar and I crossed over into Chrysalide territory, luckily, we encountered no Chrysalides. However, it is a harsh reality of life, but one has to accept that something good, no matter what, can never last very long.

Ambushed by a full-grown, MALE, Chrysalide, Master Vandar and I were caught off-guard. The Chysalide took three massive swipes at us with its serrated claws, hoping to impale us upon them. However, it was not to be, we dodged every blow, seeing each blow as for where it would land, and formulate a counter attack. But this was no ordinary chrysalide, this was a greater chrysalide, the resistance of its skin to our lightsabers proved that. Sinking deep into Juyo, master Vandar unleashed the unbridled power of the most lethal lightsaber form on the Chrysalide. Giving his spirit over to chaos and power, master Vandar called upon the force to aid him in battle, not as an ally, not as a tool, but as his very soul. Letting the force take control, master Vandar danced in light, becoming the conflict, dictating the outcome, weaving a tapestry of power and death with his blade.

The monster fell.

Death and decay hung its stench over us, like a dark veil. This threw a wrench into all my ideals, it was the unkown in the equation of the Jedi order! We killed a Chrysalide, a dark side beast, but why? Could we not coerce it away, a simple mental illusion would have proved efficient enough? The Jedi do not KILL! We merely take lives when it is necessary, when all options are exhausted, only then do we shed blood, and even then, we do our best to incapacitate, not kill. The stench of blood on my hands sickened me, it disgusted me, for a brief moment, I questioned the entire order, the force, the principles of the Jedi…..everything I "stood" for fell into shadow and doubt, veiled by lies and deceit.

I stuttered, in shock, but mostly out of fear, the words of an ignorant, rambling, compassionate child. "Mm..mmmm...mmmaster? What have we done? We are Jedi…we are not killers. We do not sow death… we do not…how this right….this is just so wrong…so wrong…"

Master Vandar replied to me, in a stern voice, a voice iron hard, carrying with it an air of grim finality: "Padawan, please understand my intentions, they were not unjustified, they were for our best interests, they were for our LIVES! The beast would have not spared our lives, it was an agent of the dark side; a creature bred for destruction and carnage. It is beyond redemption, not worthy of life, neither does it deserve death."

"But…I…I…..I" I opened my mouth to protest, but a hand rose into the air, cutting off my feeble protests.

And so, we trekked on, encountering no danger, until we came to a large pyramid-like structure situated directly across from the downed ship.

We thought the pyramid to be an ancient massassi breeding ground.

The cold, dark truth was that it was truly an ancient tomb. The tomb of Simus, the second in-command of the great Sith council. Great was he, among the Sith lord of the ancient days. He led the Sith into a golden age, where the sith were not generals of a shadow war, where we were the architects of war, sowers of the seeds of the dark side. Where we were the dejarik players, not the pawns, where our decisions were final, not governed by any other power. When the Sith were great, powerful….an Empire.

Simus was a great alchemist; the self-proclaimed "architect of immortality". Using pain and ancient sith alchemical miracles, Simus could preserve the force within a "dead" individual.

Historian of the Sith, Simus recorded many ancient teachings of the Sith. Amongst these logs was the ancient technique of Tulak Hord, Master duelist. An artist with the lightsaber, he logged his secrets in an ancient, untouchable holocron. In this holocron, he described the ancient technique of immersion into the dark side to fuel a being's anger and rage. Coalescing it, gathering it, and releasing it into one's entire being. Sending the being into a powerful rage, healing wounds at an extraordinary rate, faster than the opponent could inflict them. Attacking with lightning speed and unimaginable strength, enough to overcome any duelist, Tulak Hord used this technique to weave his tapestry of blood into the reams of death, to sing to the dark side, of the power of anger and hate, composing a symphony of pain and forgotten souls, screaming for mercy and pity, where none was there. Becoming battle, he was the embodiment of fate, dictating the outcome, consecrating lost souls to death's realm, extinguishing the light with his anger. But, most important was the ancient technique of eternal life, to tap into the dark side to funnel the eternal wellspring of life into an individual, to coerce the force to maintain life where there should be none. Such was ancient mastery, boon to the Sith, bane to others. It is despair he sowed, like seeds in a field, and it was his strength, his strength came from his anger, the fear he instilled, the despair in an opponent that he created with his dark power was the true blade, the real weapon he wielded, which he drove through the hearts and souls of so many. In which all others are inconsequential in battle. As compared to the ultimate blade, the blade….of immortality.

Preserving life is not difficult, it is truly as easy as taking it, for is ripping something from its fragile shell not as easy a task as putting it back? Is it not? Let me elaborate…for you see…on Malachor V, there exists a teaching, a teaching as old as time itself, the teachings of hunger…the secret to hunger is to be a void, to be a singularity, into which all life flows, in the hope of filling an bottomless receptacle. This void is created through devotion to anger, to swim in the rivers of hate. To see that, by purging oneself of the force, and to master the ancient arts of anger and hate to forsake its influence, one is a void, with no traces of light, where there is only…nothing…And while the force attempts to fill this void by being drawn into it, it destroys itself. For something cannot be drawn into another thing, when that thing, cannot be filled.

Now, think of the force as a luminous soul within all life, and envision death, as a means by which the soul is purged from the body, to rejoin the living force in its entire splendor. In the process, stopping all mechanics, all processes, of the body…But, envision the midichlorians, or force "cells" as a prison, death unlocks this prison. But, through affinity with the force, we can keep the gates shut….forever….

To defy death…truly it is a great gift, and it is only one of the many boons of the dark. It is where power lies, where the key to eternity lies. Where power lies, is where surrender lies. Surrender to the dark, surrender to rage and anger, the ideals of hunger, desire and manipulation. Then will one learn, and then will one see…that sometimes, fighting only worsens the situation, sometimes, surrender, is the key to victory…..And, on that ancient temple, on Ziost, is where I would stumble, where I would fall, where my devotion to the light would waiver. On Ziost, that, is where I would surrender……….


	5. And so, It begins

The Knights of the Old Republic 2 

The Sith Lords

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Chapter 5: And so, It Begins…..

"_Many things do I see here as I gaze from the heart of Malachor…Such is the power of the Dark Side."_

There are many things in the galaxy, there are lies, half-truths, and deception, and such is the power over inferiors. And, cold, hard truths. Truths, that one must realize to attain true realization of the universe as it is, to sift the facts from the lies, to see the balances, and perceive how they affect the galaxy. And, when one _does_ realize this, there is power beyond all reckoning. The power of the Sith lies in the ability to perceive the truth. Indeed, the first Sith were Jedi, Jedi, who saw the weak, corrupt, contradictory order in which they had dedicated their lives to. They saw the lies of the light, and eventually came to see the truth of the dark. And so, that is how we were born, that is how our order came to be, we were born of truth, of power, of the dark. For, when one embraces the dark truths that line the galaxy, the truths of pain, hunger, hate, anger, pain, that is how one is liberated from weak lies, lies, lies of pacifism, of calm, of compassion, of devotion to the light…

It is on Ziost, that I would see the truth, and that is where I would see the lies that governed my path, and, that, is where, I would consecrate the lies that I had listened to, the lies that had forever governed my life, to the flaming furnace of the cold, hard facts and truths of the Sith.

Simus's tomb was colossal, huge, and wondrous. It was a marvel of technology and architecture, testament to the might and power of the Sith in their golden age. As Master Vandar and I walked down a long, narrow corridor, illuminated by blue, undying flames of ancient Sith magics, testament to the might of Simus. For these flames did not drive away the darkness, Instead, they accentuated it, manipulating the properties of the light, it did not drive away the dark, it made it greater, as did the Jedi of old did. As the first Sith did. We saw ancient wonders of the Sith, Among these many artifacts were Sith Swords, imbuned with the dark, seething energies of the Dark Side, advanced anti-decomposition and life-support systems housed inside transparisteel cases, Ancient holocrons of mystic lore, telling stories of the power of the ancient Sith, containing secrets to those who desire to manipulate and control. Indeed there is much that lies within the dark halls of Simus's tomb.

As I strode into the antechamber, I saw ancient statues, ancient murals, of battles and lords past and fallen. Empires crumbling, species annihilated, planets dying, fleets of lords great and many burned the republic's weak navy from the stars, spilling their blood to fill the gaps between worlds great and many. Ancient Sith masters and their bloodthirsty massasi soldiers overran the defenses of many worlds. Coruscant burned before the might of Ancient fleets of Naga Sadow. Dxun bowed before the will of Freedon Nadd, its sky running red with the dark rage of Sith anger, its forests burned, its creatures died in droves, corrupted by the ancient magics of the Sith, some rose from their death as ancient creatures of the dark side, only heard of in legend. Marka Ragnos, most venerable dark lord of the Sith, overseeing a dark army of Massassi warriors to construct ancient praxeums and temples of the dark side, built the golden empire of the Sith from the power of manipulation and the blood of lost warriors. These were ancient powers of the dark side, who reigned during a golden age, they, who forged the blade of the Sith from a weak, pathetic dagger, into a dark, destructive brand of fire and hate. Filled with malice, avarice, hate and anger against the light, this blade, tempered by the hate of Ajunta Pall, the Rage of Tulak Hord, the ambition of Naga Sadow, and the manipulation of Marka Ragnos, this blade would be the weapon that would plunge itself into the heart of civilization, and destroy the light, its servants, its ideals, its very core essence! In short, everything…….So, that when the dust settles, ancient monuments will be long distant memories, nexi of the light, turned to pillars of the dark, servants of peace, filled with hate and anger. Domination of all things is what we would achieve, and we would destroy all, burn all who would not join us, our way was THE way! And none would question it so! No-one forsakes the ways of power and hate, of betrayal and anger. It is a lifetime service, even unto Death.

As I walked deeper In, I saw the ancient texts of the Sith, volume upon volume, tome upon tome, describing ancient techniques of the dark side for those most evolved in the use of the force. It transcended all my beliefs of the dark side, it was COMPLETELY juxtaposed to the teachings of the Jedi. It spoke of ancient dark arts, of rage, of the abilities of hunger, to pull life from a being, to forcibly manipulate his life essence to sustain one to the point of immortality. Tomes, that made the most restricted of all Jedi secrets, as plain and simple as a textbook. To Attain that power, one must forsake the ideals of selflessness and hope. Instead, one's lust can turn oneself inward, to see the reality of life, and death. That the two are interchangeable, that life is not temporary, but only as limited as one deems to see it as such. See the life of others, as mere sustenance, insignificant to others as to one's own needs. Strip it from them, tear their soul away, feed the void that is yourself, the force will serve you, as will the end of life, as death feeds the emptiness within. As dark and merciless as the cold, maleficent void of space, the empty blackness within the stars, and undeniable as the pull of the wormhole, the void that one creates within himself will consume all life, and feed the dark side with the death one sows. Such is the power of hunger, to end planets, end stars, and end all LIFE ITSELF! It is as undeniable as change, and as subtle as a dejarik master, all are engulfed within.

As I walked out of the Antechamber, I came across one empty room, and, engraved upon its dark walls, was the visage of Simus, and beneath it, a book. As I picked it up, the wind grew cold, the blue flames coiled and writhed like snakes in agony, forming visages out of the dark flames of the Sith. Murals in the room moved, showing the fates of Ancient Sith, the power they wielded. Achieving the Zenith of the arts of manipulation, they enslaved entire worlds. And thus, it was because of my curiosity, that I had awakened something, something evil and powerful, a terrible evil, that had sleft for an aeon, that possessed knowledge both ancient and new, omnipresent, and all-encompassing. So much so, that I could actually see the currents of the force, swirling around like roiling beasts, writing like a world's magnetosphere in a cosmic firestorm of radiation. And, it was thus, that I had awoken the Ancient lord Simus, the master of death himself, he spoke to me, in a prophetic tone like none my ears had ever heard, the only words I would ever need to hear. He said to me: "Young Jedi, the book you hold is a tome of dark side power, filled with secrets ancient and old, of mastery of the Dark Side, the power that exceeds all others, but, the book is useless without a guiding hand, as I so decreed before my death. And so, young Jedi, look into my eyes, and I will show you how to _see_! And with that, I spiraled into a vortex of knowledge and lore, the juxtapositions of the dark side as opposed to the light, that hate, would always achieve goals in the end, not pacifism, that, there is power in pain, neglecting pain is the mark of self-limitation, and embracing it, is to harness its unbridled power. Shortly after that, Simus had reverted to the realm long beyond mortals.

And so, I opened it, looking at its ancient writings, wondering at the point of this ancient necronomicon of the dark side. When, the book whispered, in an ancient tongue, to me! even though I was no linguist, I….understood…And it as thus, that the ancient writings flew from the book, forming a portal in time, seething with dark energies of old, encrusted with dark engravings by the ancient lords long past:_ "Only one, it has been foreseen, will read the hollow pages of this tome within, seeing futures soon to be, but inevitable, as the erosion of the shores against the sea. Of knowledge there is power, and power, is what all men strive to have, they seek, and look, and hunt for it, but truly are they blind. Nothing is as plain as it all appears to be, and knowledge, is one that embodies the mask, it appears easy to gain, and rightly it is so, but, to see what all men strive to have, not easily will your sight perceive, and thus, look, and truly see, what has past has no bearing, and the present is so very fleeting, but the future, that, is where one can truly learn, and so we strip away the sight of the blind, and look, and see, what true power really is, and in what, will it truly lie. _And, it is into this book, that I saw my future. The future of the republic, of what would happen in a golden age beyond ours. But, instead, what I saw, was not an age of happiness, or peace, it was an age of war. I saw fleets, burn and raze worlds, ancient nexi of the dark side rising from ancient stellar graves long dead.

I saw worlds dying, Jedi, falling far, forsaking their ideals against the light, blades of cyan, viridian, silver, blue, luminescent green, falling down, far down beneath what they were, fleeing before armies of Mandalorians, whose mighty Basilisk War droids burned and massacred entire cities, their fleets, burning and destroying entire armadas at many worlds, and, atop a mountain of skulls, stood Mandalore himself.

I saw, that day, what it meant to be a Jedi; the Jedi let the republic fall! That the sworn defenders of peace in the galaxy were nothing but cowardly, ignorant fools. And from that day onwards, I swore, that no race, no matter how insignificant, would not suffer because of ignorant Jedi fools..

But, to save the ones I loved, I spiraled, into an endless vortex, of darkness, and hate, of hunger, and of pain. To save the ones I held dear, I became void incarnate, but, along the way, my sight, and the sight I had, would become very distinct.


	6. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Knights of the Old Republic 6

The Sith Lords

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Chapter 6: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust….

"_Twenty years ago the Mandalorians, aware the Republic was in a weakened state, began conquering small worlds on the Outer Rim. They were careful to choose only planets outside the Republic's Jurisdiction._"

The Mandalorian wars-- many called it a failure, a failure of the Senate, a failure of the military, a failure of the Republic itself, a failure to avert the deaths of so many countless millions.

Events began to move very quickly after that fateful day I left Ziost, it was common knowledge to the galaxy that the Mandalorian leader, _Te Kandosii Mand'alor(Mandalore the Indomitable)_, had died on the jungles of Dxun many years ago. In a decision to invade the Empress Teta system, which comprised of the important Republic worlds Koros, the system's primary, and Koros Major, a important world in the system. At the time, it was ruled by the warrior-like Krath Sect, under the legendary leadership of Ulic-Qel-Droma, a powerful and legendary Jedi warrior of old. His exploits were legend, his battles on scales one would only dream of. Leader of the ancient Jedi armies during the Dark Reaper crisis, he had defeated the legendary dark side weapon that had the power to annihilate entire systems, given time. His legacy bound the Krath to his dark allegiance, under his leadership; they became ancient Jedi hunters of legend. The Krath war droids would, in time, be spoken of in hushed whispers every where, even in Jedi circles. As such, the only way to gain the system was to challenge Qel-Droma to a duel. On the deep core world of Kuar, Mandalore and Qel-Droma fought before their armies, exchanging blow after blow, devising strategies to bring each other to their knees, both were powerful and legendary warriors, but it was fated, that in the end, Qel-Droma would triumph. Pledging his loyalty to Qel-Droma, the Mandalorians and Sith forged a ancient, dark alliance. Forever tying the two together as the darkest union in galactic history, together, the Krath and the Mandalorians razed countless republic worlds. Whilst all the time, puppet master Exar Kun pulled the strings behind the legendary conflict that became known as the great Sith War. In the war's waning days, the Sith Brotherhood began to crumble, in desperation; the Mandalorians launched a legendary gamble, the Fourth Battle of Onderon. In a surprise move, the Mandalorians invaded Iziz Onderon's capital, with Mandalore himself at the head of his army. The initial parts of the conflict went much to the favour of the Mandalorians, however, the Republic soon arrived in the system with reinforcements, after learning of Ulic's defeat and capture at Republic hands, he refused to surrender, and his army was caught in between Iziz's defenders and the Republic reinforcements, and mercilessly crushed into oblivion. Mandalore himself fled to Dxun, where the majority of his forces were retreating to. However, fate is a cruel mistress, and what one plans, might not always turn out as one expects, and, on that fateful day, the stepping stones for a much larger conflagration, on scale, on atrocities, on credits spent, on systems rendered stricken by the legions of war, on so many things…so many things…bravery, courage, honor--- these gave way to fear, hate, cowardice. As such, with all wars, these events will only give way to even grander, more insidious wars, and soon, it would become evident, for soon, the whole galaxy, the whole universe, would see…they would see hunger, pain, and betrayal, they would see death and strife, they would see our beliefs SHAKE the very foundations of civilization itself….

On Dxun, from the ashes of death, from the stench of defeat, arose a victory. You see, Mandalore died, but, from death, arose life, life enough to carry the spark of the bravery of the Mandalorian race, so that one day, in its complacency, the Republic would forget the terrors it had once conquered, now ready to rise and take vengeance once again.

The Mandalorians, scattered, were like a sheet of loose Sand, and needed uniting under a common leader, the disparate clans, scattered by the defeat of Exar Kun and Ulic-Qel Droma, the Mandalorians had dispersed like dust in the noon-day wind. From his forward base of Operations on Dxun, _Te Ani Mandalor,_ the new Mandalore---yes, the NEW Mandalore….for one must know the code of the Mandalorians to understand their meritocracy, for indeed, one who has been given the gift of fore-sight can predict a repercussion. On Dxun, Mandalore the Indomitable had perished. That much was true, but, one of Mandalore's personal Mandalorian shock-troopers, a Mandalorian warrior, who had proven himself on the field of battle, hardened through the conflict that was the Sith war, had earned the right to inherit the mantle of Mandalore, it was possible, that the warrior, in his honour, would have laid Mandalore to rest. However, in the hearts of all beings, there is a seed of greed….as thus, in vanity, a descision was made, and it was to usurp the title of Mandalore. In doing so would bring this ignomous warrior fame and notoriety throughout the galaxy and throughout all time. As such, fate had decreed the birth of the new Mandalore; declared, to all Mandalorian clans, that they were to convene on Dxun, to join Mandalore in his crusade of vengeance. However, the Mandalorian clans did not heed his summons; instead, they ignored Mandalore, and instead chose to pursue their own ideals and goals. There was a problem in this, for if the clans were not recalled, there was no way to overthrow the Republic's evidently superior military. There was much debate over this, and in the end, a descision was made, a descision which cemented the Mandalorians in their perch as the galaxy's most ruthless and efficient strategists---they recruited other species into the fold as Mandalorians. From then on, a Mandalorian was not a being simply born of Mandalorian heritage, a Mandalorian was a being dedicated to the earning of honour and merit through battle.

The Mandalorians, now rallied under the banner of the legendary and fearless Neo-Crusaders, led a campaign of conquest and bloodshed across many worlds in the outer rim. There was wisdom in this choice, for you see, the outer rim comprises many worlds outside the jurisdiction of the Republic, as such, the Mandalorians gambled that the Republic Senate would not bother about the outer rim territories, confident that the Republic would not choose to marshal their entire military to safeguard planets outside of the physical boundaries of the of the jurisdiction of the galactic senate.

There was a GRAVE error in this…listen carefully…in a short span of time, in less than a Decade, the Mandalorians had subjected innumerable independent colonies and private worlds. They carved out an empire rivaling even Hutt territory in size, and would dwarf even the Hapes Consortium in terms of a standing army. War-weary senators were reluctant to quote obscure wartime jurisdictions and draft new laws and legislations for a galactic-wide military mobilisation exercise. And would only worry about military action when their borders were explicitly threatened by Mandalore's fleets and armies, however, Mandalore knew better than to risk everything he had painstakingly accumulated---only to let it all fall to ruin and death. The clans that had answered his call…… his marshaling of the Neo-Crusaders…everything fell to his decisions now…to ruin or to glory…the future of the clans fell to him…alone. And wisely he acted indeed, by turning worlds like Althir into foundries and factories, he fashioned starships of legend, unrivaled in sheer sophistication of darkspace traversal dynamism, technology unlike any other, exceeding even that of the Xi Char, who regarded technological development as an art form, and had indeed escalated it to such. Conglomerating his armada from his foundry worlds, he amassed an enormous Starfleet, along with a gigantic standing army built from the enslaved inhabitants of countless worlds. Even as countless refugees rushed from their devastated worlds to seek sanctuary within the mid-rim and deep core, the Republic Senate still insisted that the Mandalorian threat was of no concern to them.

Soon, the Republic would mobilize its entire Navy to combat this emerging threat. But, even the might of the Republic Armadas, the medicine to eradicate this cancer, could not combat a galactic disease the body itself had chosen to ignore so deeply….sown were the seeds of war….and soon, these seeds would blossom into a conflict that would redefine the meaning of _WAR_.

When war came, it was not subtle, it was not waged in shadow, it was not the result of careful political manipulation, it was not forced legislations, it was not sparked off by a murder, a racial conflict…….no…….this was WAR, on the most gruesome and grandiose scales imaginable, blood was shed, and many fell when it arrived, for the actions of the past, can sometimes define our future, and the legacy that we will someday leave to endure…..

Mandalore first led his forces to a rapid conquest of Onderon, the Republic forces commited to the defense of the Battle of Onderon soon fell before Mandalore's invasion force. After that, events proceeded too quickly for political legislation to parry…for jurisdiction by politicians and chancellors to be passed to intercept the crises…no, no….for you see, in all things, manipulation of events is the ultimate sword a fencer can carry, his saber in the midst of doubt….and Mandalore drove his saber deep into the heart of the Republic. For, by choosing to ignore Mandalore's machinations in the outer rim, the Republic knew not of the amount of species he had enslaved to his standing army to bolster the ranks of the Neo-Crusaders, or how many starships, cruisers, Dreadnaughts, destroyers and capital ships he had churned out from his foundry worlds, or even had a Rudimentary idea of even how even REMOTELY advanced Mandalore's weapons of war were, or how swiftly they were able to mobilize and pour along their invasion corridors. By not knowing the enemy's true strength, the Republic had sabotaged itself, it had not proceeded with true foresight …it had neglected the ART of waging war…as such, the invasion of the Mandalorians would mark the start of a bloody galactic massacre, with no equitable parallax for decades.

As the war advanced, the Mandalorians made clear their strategy, they poured into Republic space at three invasion corridors; they were previously uncharted adjacent darkspace corridors along the outer rim, sweeping into the Corellian trade spine and mid-rim, devastating Zabrak colonies in the outer rim along their way.

As with all things, this war was not decreed by some "mystical force"…no…this battle was set into motion by hate, the hate of the Mandalorians against those who had defeated them so many ages past. Yes, ideals can set a man to his feet, giving him the fire in his blood, sharpening the edge of his anger, to raze worlds to move Armies…..yes…it can. But, also as with all things, the force is centric on ideals, and hate is a central crux of dark side beliefs. Soon, the hate that sowed this war would give birth to an even greater evil, given form by blood, given sentience by the machinations and manipulation of unseen hands---my hands…….I would soon see the entire Jedi order either exonerated or annihilated…to the last.


	7. In the Midst Of War

Knights of the Old Republic 2

The Sith Lords

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Chapter 7: In the Midst of War

"_Anyone who put up a fight – or wouldn't fight – was crushed. We razed entire worlds trying to provoke the Republic into fighting us._"

Do you think that in War, all that exists is endless slaughter, the rank stench of death and decay at every turn? The screams of falling comrades echoing about you, while you remain paralyzed by the fear that you will be next in line, that the next bolt soaring through the air will be meant for your heart….can you see your life flash before your eyes, can you even keep fighting…do you even want to fight? Well….there is an answer---it is not as elusive as one thinks. In war, there is always a cause, and in cause, all beings find the ability to fight. It was simple enough, the Mandalorians found their drive through hate and desire, the desire for vengeance and blood. To make the Republic pay for transgressions in days long past, to repay the shame and dishonor the Republic had brought upon them. Even basic love, for life, even Trandoshans, Ssi-Ruiik, and the legendary Alien Invaders…..the Yuuzhan Vong, the disciples of pain, the worshippers of self-mutilation---of whom my master had glimpsed of….were nigh as ruthless as the Mandalorians.

Although, for all the tragedies the Republic has cried over, the deaths that were the spectral lance in the heart of so many, it is only right to say that they brought the spectre of death upon themselves. The Republic was weak, spineless; they had no idea of real strength, or how to draw it. Strength comes from the ability to use hate and anger to dominate and annihilate your opponents, letting unrestrained pain and hunger for victory consume one's opponents like a dark tide of ruin, an onslaught of doom. The Mandalorians annihilated unprotected or lightly defended cities; one of the commanders spearheading the attacks on such cities was one lone, legendary Mandalorian-----Canderous Ordo, of Clan Ordo, a bloodthirsty, violent, and legendary clan, each worthy Mandalorian from Clan Ordo had been given presiding duties over the planet Ordo under Mandalorian Jurisdiction. Entire cities were razed to the very ground, each burnt by the annihilating tendrils of Nuclear fire, as millions died in its dark embrace. As Basilisk war droids annihilated ground emplacements, Mandalorian foot soldiers effortlessly slew outer-rim world inhabitants and Republic infantry at every turn, repaying the shame of defeat with visceral metal impaling the hearts of so many, spilling blood to fill the void of shame.

Weak, pathetic, cowardly, spineless…..how can I personify their weakness? I can do it in one word: Dependance. I ask one simple question, take the pain and hate away, what is left? All that's left is the pathetic, hollow shell of a man, nothing more, take away his weapon, take away his armor, and take it all away, what do you have left? A weak, spineless animal, more ready to beg for his life than earn it, like so many before him. The Mandalorians were warriors; they were the most skilled fighters in the galaxy! But, they were truly nothing; they hold the ancient saying that all life is driven by purpose true! When matched with a force, greater, more determined, and possessing capabilities far beyond that of yours, what can you do but fight to the last? No, no, no! You outscheme, outplot, and undermine your foe with resources he does not possess, overwhelm him and rip his bathetic soul out of every orifice. I have done so to countless WORLDS! And would do so again, again, again and again to feed the endless void within me, the void that hungers for more and more, I have consumed souls, the FORCE itself, and buried empires with the sword of teachings, the teachings of the void, where there is nothingness and something at the same time, a paradox true to the end of time, where all that goes in is consumed to feed a insatiable entity.

For a time, the Jedi preached patience over direct action, we stood back, we held back, as the galaxy burned all around us. As my childhood friends were incinerated by nuclear fires, shoring the skin from their bones, as their nerves struggled to perceive pain beyond the spectrum of human conception, screaming in pain, only to never even hear their own death throes as the fires of purgatory consume their every voice, as their bones join the dark ash of war, the bleak, unholy universal churl. As I saw them die on the holonet, all I could do was stare and cry……The loss…..the pain, the ephemeral lance that spears the very heart is the greatest pain of all. Is it fair? I ask you, I could have been there, I could have helped them fight, added my mastery of the force to their weapons of war, hoisting my lightsaber as a symbol, a shining blade of the light, drenched in the blood of the ones who would seek to take our freedom from us, enacting the charge over the lines of fire and shrapnel. Jumping, head-on into the Mandalorian fortifications, my blade and mastery of the force, a blur in the maelstrom of battle, each one symbolizing that we had not given up! That the Republic would not go without a fight, that if we were to feel the embrace of death, we will not with the illusions of worthiness over our eyes! We go to the grave with honour etched on our souls! We would show that hope was not dead, that the galaxy's protectors had not left, that we were there to stand by our friends, to stand by the ones we cared for, to grind our blade on the enemy's and say to them, "not today, and never again!"

I remember one incident, one of the most horrific battles of the war, the infamous battle of Suurja. One of the war's most horrifying battles, the battle of Suurja was a conflict spanning four separate smaller engagements, all horrifying, all terrible, but, interestingly enough, it was not a failure, but, the Mandalorians, who sought to break the will of the commanders of Suurja's defenders, enacted a series of bloody and brutal executions, known as the infamous "canyon of crucifixions". The Mandalorians, desperate to break the cordons, had enacted a brutal massacre of their Republic prisoners of war. They had lined up more than 100,000 Republic officers and soldiers, along with some of the native resistance fighters, had been lined up along a canyon, crucified on wrecks of decommissioned Basilisk war droids and Republic artillery emplacements, impaled by their hands and feet upon durasteel spires, bleeding from their nose and eyes, some blinded by the pain of steel's cold embrace. When, all of a sudden, on a cliff, Mandalore the Ultimate made an announcement to his counterpart, Commander Saul Karath----yes, THE Saul Karath, the one and the same, the man who had fought the great Mandalore himself to a stalemate, and was the greatest admiral in the entire Republic navy. Yes, Saul Karath, who would later serve Darth Malak, Dark Lord of the Sith empire, exonerated beyond all…yes, yes, yes---but only for a while…..after that…well…even Mistress Death cannot expel all the pain of shame, only you can do that, but, if you cannot….ahh….yess…..you are NOTHING, stripped of rank, honour, your life, your soul, ripped out from your mortal shell, seeing pain that has transcended death transpire before your eyes, ravaging your pathetic mortal frame……it is indeed true that you will beg for death.

"Hear me, Commanders of the Republic, know that on this day, I issue you an ultimatum! You either break off the naval cordon, and give me dominance of Suurja and withdraw all your forces, or, I will show every man in this valley the true meaning of suffering! Their bones will serve as the dust in the stellar winds, and I will etch my victory on their skulls, that will forever stand in this valley as testament to my power! I will dig out their hearts and impale them on the dark spires of every wrecked war droid in this valley, so hear me now! Send your reply in 5 standard minutes, or else every single man in this valley will be a drop in the rivers of blood I will forever create in this shadowed valley! Five minutes, no more, no less, I give you my word as a Mandalorian I will not forget!Five minutes is all you have...Commander Karath, I suggest you use them wisely..._DHA WERDA VERDA!" _

Upon hearing the message, Saul Karath immediately held council with his the admirals of the fleet: "I say we do not let this…..Monster….allow himself to think we shall be so easily walked over! We do not give in to crazed psychopaths and their delusional demands! If we had, we would all be hoisting Naga Sadow's flag above our war vessels right now!" A roar of agreement went up from every commander on his viewscreen, every commander gave his blessings to Saul Karath, EVERY Admiral concurred… except one lone voice, the lone voice of reason. "Commander Karath! Sir! Please….don't…we don't know what Mandalore and his army is planning, if we decline, they might not only execute every single being in that valley, they might raze the entire planet as well, reducing it to a wasteland for aeons!"

That lone voice of reason was Karath's own apprentice: Carth Onasi.

"Carth…..we can't give in. If we let Mandalore do this, he will begin to think that we are spineless opponents, and he could damn well walk all over us! If we don't assert our authority right now, who knows what might come! We might as well GIVE Mandalore the heart of freedom in the Republic; we might as well GIVE him Coruscant!"

Of course, Karath held his ground, and Mandalore was infuriated.

"Those spineless, pathetic weaklings! I give them a shred of honor to cling to, and they spit in MY face! That does it! Every Mandalorian executor, in that valley, unsheathe your blades and dig-THEIR-HEARTS-OUT! Make them beg for death, and deny them its loving embrace…I want every drop of blood to ooze out of their bodies before I AM SATISFIED! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR, WARRIORS?" As one voice, they responded: "Yes, Mandalore"

Saul Karath could never forget the screams.

Once the massacre was over, bodies littered the valley, some impaled through every orifice by Vibroswords, and others died through the magnetic shearing of every artery and vein….others had their skulls ripped out while they still lived.

Personally, I hated the Mandalorians for this. But, in time to come, I would not see this as a mark of the bloodthirsty or weak. No….I would see this, as a catalyst.

I hated what they had done, my friends, my childhood companions were soldiers there! And every-one of them died for a cause that had forsaken them. As I learnt to become void incarnate, I learnt how to funnel the void to consume souls into my ever-increasing, ravenous hunger for the force, into which the void I am which would consecrate all life to eternal, everlasting annihilation. Hate is my funnel; pain the substance of my conduit. Even though I would soon slay every Mandalorian that stood, impaling their skulls on spires of rock…

I had to thank them for hate.


	8. What did I really fight for?

The Knights Of The Old Republic 2

The Sith Lords

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Chapter 8: What did I really fight for?

"_While the Jedi Council preached patience, there were many among our order who were eager for us to join the battle. Two young knights in particular demanded immediate action; Revan and Malak. They rallied many of the Jedi to their cause and, against the wishes of their masters, joined the Republic fleet battling the Mandalorians._" — Dorak

In the Mandalorian Wars, the Jedi chose not to interfere; we were after all, the Guardians of "peace" and "order" and chose to not add to a devastating intergalactic war, fearing the loss of more lives, the security of the order…..there were many reasons at the time.

Every last reason as spineless and cowardly as the last.

If there is chaos, there must be order, if there is conflict, its natural offset must be present, and that is peace. If we were dedicated to order and peace, we would have halted this crisis before it started, sent out a strong message to every Mandalorian that we if they wished to dominate the Galaxy, we would stand before them at the gates of the Oblivion they wished to unleash, sabers crossed, the hooded Sentinels of Order.

Sadly it was not to be, the Jedi Council held steadfastly true to their descision to allow the Mandalorian Juggernaut to ravage world after world, Death's cowled hood following them everywhere they went.

That would all change at Cathar.

Cathar was an outer rim World, on the borders of the Galactic Republic. In the glory days of Exar Kun's Sith War, had stood against Exar Kun, albeit foolishly, they fought with the fire I had not seen in untold generations, they fought like true warriors.

The Battle of Cathar, however, was swift and deadly, passing with all evidence of ravaging the poor planet and species like a cancer would to a body. While as painful as that of a fatal lightsaber stroke. The Cathar orbital facilities and orbital interstellar communication relays were reduced to flaming heaps of twisted, burning metal by the Mandalorian fleet. Even here the Mandalorians employed strategy, making sure they decimated crucial points of the planetary communication systems, without the means to call for aid, which might not even arrive, the Cathar were slaughtered in a genocide that would last for untold millennia in the minds of all those who bore witness to the massacre.

Families, Children, slain in their sleep.

Basilisk war mounts decimated settlement after settlement, their Magnetic accelerators hurling plasma torpedoes that burned and ravaged primitive Cathar homes as easily as I would break a stick. Bodies, reduced to burning skeletons in the cold, unfeeling embrace of temperatures incomprehensible by most minds. Shoring nerves from the flesh before the brain could comprehend the presence of the pain, or the loss of the nerves. The incessant, unceasing rain of laser bolts from the air dropped the Cathar species like flies, falling in the hundreds, Mandalorian snipers picking off those who escaped with accelerated biotoxin darts and special Mandalorian darts. Those fortunate enough to get hit by the toxin darts screamed in agony as the inescapable, unstoppable cold rushed through their body, halting all motor functions, all the while causing necrophilic decay of the flesh to spread outward from the wound, ravaging their victims' fragile mortal frames with convulsions of pain and agony, until the decay reached a point where it consumed the entire body, leaving only a rotting skeleton, tinged green by the decay of the toxin.

Those who got hit by the darts however, were a different story.

Those darts were specially designed, with ridges along the side, so that when they hit the target, they would enter the body, but spiral in random directions inside.

Imagine getting yourself shot in the stomach, liver, lungs, heart, and intestines once, only to have yourself experience that feeling all over again, only slower this time, as the body's organs slow down the acceleration of the bolt, only to have it carve out more and more of your insides.

The Cathar fell, some coughing up their own eviscerated insides, some sqiuriming, twisting their body into normally impossible positions, only if to escape the even greater pain of being hit by plasma bolt after bolt. Some fell to the ground, their eyes gouged out, plasma and projectile wounds at all manner of locations.

After this, there was no more going back.

The next day, there was a great uproar in the room of a thousand fountains.

Revan and his friend and apprentice, Malak, had assembled a group of Jedi together to discuss the future of the war.

"Friends, you have seen the horrors of the war, the battle of Serroco, the battle of Flashpoint station, and more recently, the battle of Cathar! We have let the Mandalorians get away with too much! While we sit back and preach non-violence and peace, the Mandalorians crush world after world, slaughtering untold millions! As the guardians of peace, we are sworn to defend the galaxy from threats like this, yet we sit here, idle! There is nothing honorable, or even somewhat righteous about watching the galaxy burn as we sit here safe in out temple! So I say to you, will you defy the council? Will you stand with me against this threat? Will you fight for the freedom of your worlds, and your loved ones within? Will you fight those who would take away freedom and peace?"

"YES!"

"Will you let them burn all we hold dear?"

"NO!"

"And, should they push forward, despite us, will you let them destroy us, destroy our order, and all it has sworn to protect upon the blood of millions of soldiers---upon the warriors of a hundred worlds?"

"NEVER!"

"Then stand with me, stand with me and Malak, and we will drive these infidels back into the interstellar void they should have suffered in ages past!"

A roar went up from the crowd, chanting Revan's name again and again.

I was one of them.

And yet, how ironic is it, that the very room, that I had taken upon the mantle of a guardian of order and peace.

I would return, many years later, as a Sentinel of hate and hunger, consuming the souls of the innocent, only to feed the void that is my presence in the force.

Truly, it is the irony, that for all it is, light, will one day, always have to go, and only darkness will be there to replace it.


	9. Fate's Decree

Knights of The Old Republic 2:

The Sith Lords

Hey I'm back! Sorry I haven't posted in some time, I've been away doing school stuff...Now for the UPDATE! 

If you could hit the "Submit Review" button please...

Chapter 9: Fate's Decree

"_Will you stand with me and Revan?"----Malak_

* * *

Malak and Revan announced their intentions to the Jedi Council shortly after, much to the chagrin and dismay of many of the Jedi council members, who argued that Revan would only bring about more Death to a war that already had its fair share of a body count. 

In the end, it was to be decreed that Revan and Malak, along with all those who followed them, would be still counted as members of the Jedi Order, but they would be Gray Jedi, acting outside the Jurisdiction of the council, acting purely for their own motives.

That decision proved to be the turning point in the War, for before that; the commanders of the Republic fleet were spineless and weak-willed, the Mandalorians, however, were ruthless and utterly violent, willing to see the defeat of the Republic for any cost.

Truly their spirit was great, but in the end, it would prove to be their undoing.

Shortly after Revan joined the Republic Navy, there was some hope, the Jedi had not all left, and not all of them had retreated into shadow, out of cowardice and fear. Some Jedi were left, ready to hoist the banner of the Republic over the worlds that were rightfully theirs, standing at the forefront of battle, our lightsabers a symbol of hope, as we charged into the fray, leaping into Mandalorian emplacements, gutting and decimating warrior after warrior.

After all, we swore that for every eye, we would take TEN as payment!

However, on Eres 3, there would be a great schism, a schism that would later haunt the minds and stab hearts with the icy spear of fear. On Eres 3, was where the loyalties of many of Revan's Jedi Consul and Army would be brought from the shroud of blind loyalty into the light of doubt and suspicion.

But for me, Eres 3 would change my life forever.

For, on that burning world of dying Xoxin, I would find the one thing that made me hold on for so long...Love.

It was in the waning days of the siege of Eres 3, where many Jedi had perished, burnt alive, gutted by Vibroswords, and crushed by magnetic Accelerator cannons; their skulls adorning the gate of the Mandalorian Emplacement as a grisly symbol that no jedi would leave Eres 3 alive.

In the Republic Outpost's Command and Control centre, Malak and Revan discussed the final assault of Eres 3.

"The Mandalorians have deployed their Basilisk War-Mounts in contingents, the biggest two deployed in a central position orbiting the central citadel, where they have a complete view of all our forces."

"I propose then, a Tactical air strike. A whole squadron of our best Jedi pilots. A brief hit-and-run will and cripple their anti-infantry defenses."

"But they will ALL die! The Mandalorian Anti-air defenses are nothing to be taken lightly! I count twenty ion missile emplacements, and forty other heavy turbolaser emplacements!"

"That, Commander, is a sacrifice you must make."

"I won't let you send my men on a god-damned SUICIDE MISSION! They are my responsibility and I will not let them die like boma to the slaughter!"

"Have you lost your mind, Revan? Those are Jedi out there!"

"Your fellow knights!"

Revan slammed his hand on the Table

"Goddamnit! Don't you remember what you fought this war for? Millions will die! And more will go with them if you don't muster up some spine!"

General Malak spoke too:

"You pathetic maggots disgust all I stand for, get out of my sight or I will personally kill you and throw your remains to the Mandalorians."

No-one moved.

"GET OUT!"

Every single field commander clamored for the door.

Revan sighed, bowing his head in tiredness.

"I'm tired, Malak, every day, more and more Jedi die, more and more Jedi desert, out of fear, cowardice...a whole host of damned reasons! At this rate...we'll be back to square one before this damned war is over!"

"I know what you mean, Revan, believe me, I despise them as much as you, but you have to understand what they face. Believe me, when you step onto the battlefield, the only sounds you will hear are the screams of your dying comrades, screaming their death throes to a forsaken world, as the explosions of shrapnel and plasma mines shore away their organs and skin. The crunch of your former friends' skulls as you step over necrolysed bodies, stripped away of all humanity...while the cold, unfeeling mask of the neo-crusaders stares at you, splattered with blood, etched with the scratches of the hands of fallen soldiers, taunting you to charge into your own dark Oblivion."

"If they can't control their rage or fear, they deserve to die!"

"Well, all we can do now is disable the shield over the fortress, and call for orbital bombardment, unless you are willing to risk Eres 3 to further incursion."

"Well, I would..."

At that moment, I stepped in.

"Commander, I told you to get ou..."

"No, Malak, wait."

"I remember you...you were that Telosian, that boy I found all those years ago. You, who burned with a warrior's fire and shone with the wisdom and power of the greatest of consulars, you serve here?"

I replied: "yes"

"Good, then follow me."

"Now, the Mandalorians are too deeply entrenched, I suppose you remember the Jedi massacre two days ago..."

Ahhh, yes, the Jedi Massacre of Eres 3, one of the worse of the war. It was on that fabled day that the Jedi attempted a charge _en masse_ upon the Mandalorian emplacements, knowing that they all charged to their death, they still charged to death. To the black Oblivion not unlike the singularity that is my soul, drawing all into bleak nothingness.

Jedi fell, some made it far, for only by turning bullet after bullet away they only angered the Mandalorians and steeled their resolve. Some fell to Magnetic accelerators their death throes heard by others who sought to flee, only to be riddled by necrolyphic venom darts, feeling the inescapable cold as the venom spread, stopping their hearts, shoring their nerves away, falling to inescapable doom. Mandalorian artillery emplacements hurled plasmatic beams of concentrated energy, burning through the Jedi flanks, reducing skin to molecules, bones to powder, leaving the charred remains of war. Those who got inside inflicted as much damage as possible, cutting down crusader after crusader, only to be hewn by a storm of Vibroblades and shock staffs.

In all, hundreds of Jedi died.

Revan shocked me out of my reviere.

"Now, you will head into the encampment and destroy that generator, clear?"

"Clear."

"Now, you will not be going alone, you will need aid, as such, you will be going with my most trusted general."

"Elan, meet Elax Verq, your secondary for this mission."

"Glad to meet you, Elax, now, what's the plan?"

"God in heaven...you're...so...so...so..."

She was so beautiful...it was like staring into the heart of the force itself, beholding the transcendent light of beauty, the opposition to the flames of the dying Xoxin around me, as Mandalorian death rained from the dark, lightning speared skies above. An angel in purgatory, where so many have passed into the shadow of death, I had beheld the incarnation of life, unfolding in glorious beauty before my unworthy eyes.

"Elax?"

"Yes...yes...I'm fine...Sorry, General Revan."

"Good, it's settled, we have to finish this tonight; otherwise we will be decimated by tomorrow. When Cassus Fett himself arrives at the head of his armada, and annihilates us all!"

"Then tonight it is!"

The troopship's engine's roar was deafening, but the importance of this mission had heightened all my senses, to the point I could make out Revan's commands.

"Get in, disable the generators' main fusion core, and we will be able to send a beacon to the _Acclamator_ in orbit. The heavy turbolasers will then destroy the unshielded facility, COMPLETELY! Do you understand? They cannot bring the main generator back online, so make sure you use every one of those proton charges, understand?

"Understand."

"Now go!"

We were deployed into the base through a small underground ventilation pipe, from there; we entered the facility's main power generation chamber.

"Elan, the main conduit is over there, that's is where we need to deploy the charges."

"It's heavily guarded, we need to distract them."

"Elan, we need to do it NOW! Sunrise is in 2 hours."

"Elax, you might die, I won't let..."

"Elan?"

"Elax, get down!"

"Damn!"

Laser bolts rained like shrapnel from a grenade.

"They've found us, let's go!"

"No! Get to the conduit level! I'll come for you, Elan, never forget that!"

"Stay safe, Elax!"

As I jumped to the highest level, avoiding bolt after bolt, every second was like torture, would she survive? However, when I reached the conduit, the Mandalorian commander stood there, waiting for me.

He stood there, his ceremonial swords crossed, beckoning me to fight.

And, I...charged.

He parried me, blow for blow, riposte for riposte, lunge for lunge, he was indeed a warrior skilled beyond most ilk.

But the force was my ally, and a powerful ally it is.

After time, the commander began to tire, and when he did, I pressed my advantage.

Switching from Shien and Djem So, I hammered his defense till he broke, and when he wore himself out, I fenced his Vibroswords out of his hands.

"If I am to die, I will not die by you!"

With that, he stabbed himself with his own necro-scorcher poison, forcing me to look on in horror as his neck and limbs snapped to the effects of the horrible poison, his eyes and skin burning away as fast as his nerves could comprehend.

"What a shame..."

"Elax! The charges!"

"Oh, right!"

I implanted the charges and activated them in the order given to me by Revan, and fled like a mynock out of hell.

"Elax, run!"

"Not without you!"

I grabbed Elan and ran as fast as I could, running to the ventilation shaft.

"Damn you Jedi! Burn in all nine Corellian Hells!"

As I jumped into the shaft, Elan let out a cry of pain.

"What's wrong, Elan, you okay?"

"Aahh, I got hit..."

"Damn, damn, that looks bad; I need to get you out now!"

"Aargh!"

"_You damned Mandalorians, how dare you harm the ones I love."_

They took so many from me, my friends, my loved ones, my galaxy, and now, I would not let them take my love!

I ran, with the speed of the force giving my feet unearthly motion.

And unto that end, the assault on Eres 3 ended with the death from the Republic Warships above, decimating the Mandalorians with bolts of death and fire. Their shield barrier torn asunder by Revan's guile and my explosives, ending the blood-drenched assault in a moment of fiery conflagration!

But, on that now barren, desolate world, was the one thing I had been looking for, all this war.

I had found love, and she loved me back.

As we looked to the stars from the portside of the _Acclamator, _we smiled, looked into each other's eyes, and made a promise, that to even Star's end, nothing would ever separate us.


	10. Ground Zero

Knights of The Old Republic 2:

The Sith Lords

Chapter 10 up! Plz Review! Hit that little button down there. Props to all of you that do!

Chapter 10: Ground Zero.

"_I hate you, Exile, because you are beautiful to me."—_Darth Sion to the Jedi Exile.

In the waning days of the Mandalorian wars, Revan had begun to push the Mandalorians back to the outer fringes of their Empire, and gradually, out of it.

However, the Mandalorians, with superior skill and technology, surged against the rising tide of Oblivion looming against them, holding back the crest of the Dark waters of the Stygian river with blood and the bodies of the fallen. As many as ten Republic soldiers fell to the cold embrace of Annihilation for every Mandalorian to breathe his last.

Onderon, Dxun, Althir, Serroco, Vanquo, Flashpoint Station, Cathar...the tragedies of the War, and the ones liberated from tragedy.

As far as worlds go, the Galaxy would never have been the same; those worlds would never forget the eternal scars of Mandalorian steel and fire.

But the stage was set for endgame, and this time, the fate of all hinged at one special place: Malachor V.

Rumors abounded about the evil place, that it was an old Sith stronghold, filled with knowledge dwarfing that of Ziost and even Korriban. Others said it was a ancient Mandalorian graveyard, given substance by the iron-clad will of Mandalorian warriors and warmasters who would not let simple, insignificant death separate them from the rush and exhilaration of conflict and war.

Only a select few knew of the terrible truth, and those that should not have, disappeared into the ebon night forever.

The heart of the matter was that Malachor V was a graveyard, and a centre of knowledge. Ancient Sith, great and powerful, had given much to the ancient library of the Malachor V academy, the real name of which even Revan would not speak of.

For you see, Revan himself came upon the name of Malachor V in ancient Jedi texts, speaking of a place of great evil that corrupt all souls who enter within, and yet, he knew that it was the key, the key to and all the pain and suffering of the war, the key he had sought since the war began.

But Malachor V was an ancient graveyard, the ancient stewards of the Malachor V academy had passed on, their dark souls lingering, refusing to die, seeking to drag more within.

When Revan stepped on that dead world, he beheld the ancient library of Malachor V, and the knowledge within revealed itself to him, in a burning spectacle of dark side power. Simple minds could never have comprehended, but, when seen through the eyes of the force, was spectacular.

An ebon spire, rising from the dark, swirling singularity of infinite power and knowledge, spreading lightning–struck spears of dark energy from the scythe-sharp tip of the dark obelisk...while the dark, hooded sentinels of the academy bowed and bade Revan enter.

And when he did, only time would tell, and the eternal eyes of space would see, exactly what happened within that dark stronghold.

But when he came out, there was something different about him, a dark...ebony aura, like the stillness of night, and the cold whisper of death, hung about him.

And to us, he bade to wage the last stand at Malachor.

The night before the final onslaught, Elan and I met one last time, on the former foundry world of Althir.

"Elan, you can always walk away, there is nothing you owe Revan, your allegiance is to yourself, and to our love...doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Elax...I chose to go, I won't abandon Revan, look at all he did for us! For you!"

"Even still, I won't let you die! I chose to go down this dark path of war, but I would not let the Reaper's scythe claim you!"

"If it does, then it is fate's decree, not mine!"

I could take the pain no longer.

"DAMMIT ELAN! DEFY FATE, FOR THE LOVE OF THE DIVINES, REVAN DID NOT DECIDE YOURS, NEITHER DID HE DECIDE MINE!" I roared, throwing my lightsaber aside.

"Elax..."

I slumped down onto the floor, my face in my hands, crying.

"Oh, Elan...I-I'm s-sorry, so sorry...please f-forgive me...forgive me...I would never hurt you...never..."

"Shhhh, its okay, Elax, its okay...I will not leave you, never in all of the annals of time."

"I'm sorry...so sorry..."

"Its okay, I understand."

"Please...remember me for our better times...not for this...never for this"

"Sleep now, darling, I will never stop loving you...never."

And as night fell over Althir, a clear, ebon night, the stars shining in their transcendant glory, the twin moons of Althir framed in eternal union, locked in an eternal embrace, eclipsed one another, entwined in a embrace the stars themselves christened.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I said quietly,

"Me too."

I was never a deep believer in any form of religion, believing that blind loyalty to "higher powers" blinded fools to the true nature of power, the nature of ideals.

But that night, I prayed to the force.

"Please, if you can hear me, keep my Elan safe."

I cried that night, for the first time that I can remember in years, I cried my heart out.

The next day, the entire fleet mobilized to Malachor V, riding darkspace to the last stand.

And it was there, that I would see history made.

As the Republic fleets clustered about Malachor, a hyperspace rift tore itself into existence, thousands of ships pouring out of the stark white wormhole.

The colossal Mandalorian Juggernaut deployed from hyperspace, assuming a pincer formation. And at its helm, in the legendary _Emancipator, _was Mandalore himself, spearheading the assault on the republic vanguard. A dark, emotionless mask covering his face as his blood-soaked cloak fluttered, eerily, framed against the black infinitude of space and his War Machine.

He raised his ceremonial swords, crossed them, and bellowed: "_Onward, Warriors of Mandalore!_"

And with that, Basilisk war droids poured out of the juggernaut like swarms of insects.

"And with that, wings of fighters from every race across the Republic swarmed towards the oncoming swarm, meeting them, bolt for bolt, life for life, blade for blade.

As Mandalore's dreadnaughts unleashed an unyielding tide of burning destruction, the shields and Turbolasers of the Republic cruisers strove back and forth against the black, midnight death spewing from the Mandalorian war machine; it occurred to Cassus Fett that there might be a hidden threat within the ancient graveyard world.

"Lord Mandalore, I have studied the Republic's tactics, and there is a danger, they lure our Basilisk War droids and Dreadnaughts closer and closer to the planet, but, at a certain point, they stop, and then choose to stand and fight, even when hopelessly outnumbered and out-gunned. Revan seems intent on only keeping our fighters close to the planet, and making sure they stay there. It is possible, however unlikely, that they might be trying to exploit our own Mandalorian warriors by goading them there, only to be annihilate us with some unseen weapon."

"Hmm...Cassus, bring me up a file on the planet Malachor V."

"Sir!"

"Planet: Malachor V.

Location: Outer rim.

Magneto-spherical density: 20 tesla.

Diameter: 14287392 miles

Indigenous Population: "Storm Beasts"

Warning: Powerful Gravimetric anomalies present."

"I see nothing wrong, Cassus, except for the Gravimetric anomalies, there appears to be no real threat to our armies."

"But the anomalies, could that be something..."

Before Mandalore could properly brood over that question, Revan commed Mandalore's flagship.

"Mandalore! Hear me! I, the Jedi, Revan, challenge you, to single combat aboard your flagship: _Emancipator._ If you desire to fight, open you bay lock doors for my fighter to land! If not, you risk your own Mandalorian honour. The choice, Lord Mandalore, is yours alone...do not risk your honour in front of your own warriors..._Mandalore._"

"Open the bay doors, NOW!"

As Revan strode out of his starfighter, into the bay, he could hear the resounding "Clank!" of Mandalore's heavy heeled combat armor boots.

"So, you decided to fight. You're not such a coward after all."

"Your bones will be cosmic dust in the wind after I'm through with you, whelp!"

Revan activated his lightsaber with the legendary "snap-hiss", echoing that of ancient Jedi in ages past.

He assumed a Soresu pose, and beckoned with his hands.

"Come for me, then!"

"You have damned yourself!"

Mandalore charged against Revan, and, in one spectacular moment, their blades crossed, clashed, and they strove against one another, the Juggernauts of both sides, locked in a state of transcendant combat.

Revan broke the lock, and danced around Mandalore, landing glancing blows on his plasta-durasteel laced armor, merely annoying the Juggernaut, never striking him directly.

But what Revan did not know was that Mandalore was a Master of armed combat, exceeding his predecessor in the use of Vibroswords.

Mandalore broke Revan's circle-strafe, and forced him into direct combat.

Mandalore unleashed an unrelenting flurry, spinning his blades around his body, over his head; to build momentum to smash Revan's puny frame into the ground.

Backstab followed backstab, downward lunges dented the durasteel bay floor,

Revan dodged every attack, and steeped himself in the ancient technique of Trakata.

Dodging every blow, Revan baited Mandalore, until there came a point where Mandalore made one fatal mistake.

"Damn you Jedi, stand and Fight!"

"You want a fight? Take it!"

"A-acckk"

Revan, with one, pinpoint stroke, shoved his lightsaber into Mandalore's abdominal joint.

"W-wh-aatt did y-y-you do?"

"Like you said, you have damned yourself."

"Go to hell, J-jed..iii.."

"After you."

At that point, every single Mandalorian soldier in that bay attacked Revan in a blind rage.

Dodging plasma bolt after bolt, turning away lasers and gamma ray projector beams, Revan hurtled towards his starship. As he drew nearer,the Mandalorians' desperation and anger turned only to greater rage, rage-driven soldiers hurled their Vibroswords and Electro-daggers at him, piercing the fortified bay doors and floor of the reinforced-durasteel bay, missing him by mere inches.

"Damn, I'm outnumbered, gotta get out---of----here."

Revan reached for his starfighter canopy, clambered in, and hit the boosters into overdrive.

"Elan, activate it, NOW!"

"Order received, and confirmed."

With a cold, sterile calm, Elan turned to Bao-Dur, and gave the order.

"Order received, voice recognition status alpha, activate power sequence for the _Mass Shadow Generator!"_

"Order received, General Elan, Power Status at 100, internal systems at Optimal Efficiency."

"General Revan, transmit Activation codes."

"Transmitted! Now power the Super-weapon, before we all die!"

As the activation codes were transmitted, Elan put her activation key into the countdown slot, and...turned.

"10"

"9"

"8"

"7"

"6"

"5"

"4"

"3"

"2"

"1"


	11. My Strand Of Fate

Knights of The Old Republic 2:

The Sith Lords

Chapter 10 up! Plz Review! Hit that little button down there. Props to all of you that do!

Just A little Hint...By now You should Guess who General Elan...ahem J-e-d-i ahem E-x-i-l-e ahem is.

Chapter 11: My Strand Of Fate.

"_One cannot hold a power of that Magnitude and still perceive the Universe as we do."—Darth Traya._

Do you know what happens at ground Zero of a black hole? Where all matter is drawn by the irresistible pull of Gravity, absorbed within an infinite singularity, compressed, and utterly annihilated.

At Ground Zero of the Mass Shadow Generator, one sees the devastation, the annihilation of a black hole on a smaller scale, through no less terrible. Ships, their Magnetic latches, welded durasteel, Command Bridge, turbolaser emplacements, Living crew...drawn towards Malachor V, Mandalorian Dreadnaughts, Basilisk War droids, completely annihilated, drawn towards Malachor V like Nuclear Fire from a dying star into the Dark Maw of a black hole.

So great was the pull that even entire planets...moons in the Malachor system, were utterly and completely destroyed...rendered lifeless, useless husks of planetary matter.

And...to that end...I survived, but what I saw that day was not the death of millions, it was the death of the force.

But, as the scream of others echoed around me, I survived.

And to that end, my eyes saw things no Mortal should ever see, heard things no Man should hear...

I perceived the force, dying...

That day, on Malachor V, The Mass Shadow Generator was activated. Death's hooded sentinel had come to pass Judgement upon this bleak and wasted war once and for all.

Unfortunately for me...Death takes no sides.

As Crimson and Emerald bolts strove against one another, crashing against shields, embracing Basilisk War droids and dogfighters, spectacular explosions illuminating the Ebon curtain of space...outshining the stars eternal...framed against the background of midnight black, A massive Gravitation Singularity yawned behind Malachor V.

An Umbra of Ebon Annihilation, the void yawned and consumed all within reach of its enormous Maw.

Fighters...

Ships...

Dreadnaughts...

Entire fleets...

Planets...

All gone...

Like A black hole, it gathered together the planets of the Malachor system, and fused them with Malachor itself, grinding planet against planet, mercilessly fusing different E-Magnetospheres. Densities. Physical Natures even! Screaming in terrible, ethereal, ephemeral pain...their piercing cries of agony echoing through the force like adamantine barbs.

Fleets were drawn towards the singularity, their engines straining, uselessly, against the pull of One of Nature's fundamental forces, as the undeniable pull of Gravity consumed ship after ship.

An irony...sadly, was that Gravity was one of the fundamental forces of creation, that, in that one spectacular burst of energy, had given the Universe shape and form.

Just as creation had brought substance out of Entropy; Gravity, Electromagnetism, The weak and Strong Nuclear Forces Gave the universe shape, form, and dimension.

Yet here, Gravity destroys everything itself was responsible for bringing into being.

Yet defiant to the end, as all beings are, captains, Admirals, Commanders, strove against the pull of death...refusing to die, yet fully aware that the reaper's scythe would be upon them...that they, like those before them, would just become another casualty in a war that had claimed millions.

As my world died, falling apart, like it had on Serroco, Eres IV, On Flashpoint Station, Cathar...Althir.

Oh, my Elan...I never even got to say goodbye...

I closed my eyes, ready to accept my destiny and the Dark Oblivion that would come to claim me...

After all, had I not suffered enough?

The love of my life was most probably dead, torn apart by the Yawning Gravitaional singularity that that had devastated colossal Warships once capable of spanning the stars themselves.

The wound that Malachor V left in the Force was like ethereal torture. When A voice of the force is extinguished, it rends the very fabric that binds us all together, piercing the force with terrifying ease...rending its fabric like the one would mort flesh with a Iron Scythe.

And to that very end, Imagine that very same torture, multiplied, million-fold, the echoes in the force, individually, offsetting one another, buffet each one, multiplying in intensity, the shear in the force becomes a tear, the tear, becomes a void, the void becomes a wound...in the force itself...

Millions of dying souls, screaming their death throes to the force itself, each echo cuts through my mind like adamantine-durasteel bullets through flesh, as the echoes multiply in intensity and number, as more and more souls die, the pain becomes unbearable.

It is technically impossible to see a shear in the fabric of the force itself, such a travesty...such an affront to life...is impossible.

But yet...it happened.

Only...it was worse.

It was a wound in the fabric of the force itself---death its lone architect.

And yet, even though I knew what it was, my primitive mind struggled to perceive it...and what I saw, I would never forget.

The very patterns that bind us all together, the astral, transcendent patterns that underlie all life, that govern all of us, so beautiful...so mystical...that every Jedi perceives, yet never understands...that all who begin their journey down that long road, who dedicate their lives in service to the force...as journeymen of its order, pledged their entire lives to...were torn apart, as the very fabric that weaves together, binds us all together, unravels, comes undone, unraveling to become a shear in life itself.

Threads fray, ends splinter, and the damage spreads with every thread unraveled.

And yet, I did not die.

My world was burning, falling apart, splintering at its ends. Torn apart by the Gravity of Malachor V, channeled by the Mass Shadow Generator, the Bridge of my Command and Control vessel began to fall apart, fragmenting---splintering, torn apart like fragile paper.

At the time, I was so close to death, traversing the line that divides life and death that I had slipped out of consciousness...fully prepared to embrace those that I longed to see ever so much.

And yet, I did not die.

No...Fate is A sadistic, twisted, mean-spirited puppeteer, pulling our strings, leading us to our final destiny, never relinquishing.

If mine was not to join those I had missed so much in death, then truly my life had been a travesty unto itself.

Life without purpose is as good as nothing at all.

Better to be dead than living in eternal torment and lament.

And yet, I did not die.

When I woke up, it was not in the embrace of my Friends, not in my love Elan's embrace, surrounded by the ascendant light of eternal bliss.

"Get up! Useless Jedi Scum."

A sharp kick to the side of my face was all that it took to get my attention.

I looked up, and what I saw...was so terrible, that I reached for my lightsaber, instinctively, grabbing at my robes, wanting to hack away at the terrible sight before my eyes until there was nothing left.

"No Fancy weapons here, Jedi"

The specter took out my lightsaber, twirled it, and pocketed it.

As I reached out with the force, my hands were yanked back by some manner of Magnetic latching.

"No 'Force' either, Scum"

My hands went limp, falling to my side, as I looked up, staring blankly into that emotionless Mandalorian Mask.

"Your 'kind' killed Mandalore, allow us to return the favour, TENFOLD!"

The next blow sent me reeling, the one after that knocked me out.

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Cmon, Review! RoflWaffle...

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